Metamorphosis: Onyx Edition

By Franz Kafka

"Metamorphosis" by Franz Kafka is a surreal and haunting exploration of existential alienation and the absurdity of human existence. This novella, penned by the enigmatic Kafka, unfolds with a nightmarish beauty, leaving an indelible mark on the literary landscape of the 20th century.

The story centers around Gregor Samsa, a tr

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Faceless Syndicate
• Release date: Jan 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9798869096463

Franz Kafka

Franz Kafka (1883-1924) was a primarily German-speaking Bohemian author, known for his impressive fusion of realism and fantasy in his work. Despite his commendable writing abilities, Kafka worked as a lawyer for most of his life and wrote in his free time. Though most of Kafka’s literary acclaim was gained postmortem, he earned a respected legacy and now is regarded as a major literary figure of the 20th century.

Book preview

I

One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found

himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin. He lay on his

armour-like back, and if he lifted his head a little he could see his

brown belly, slightly domed and divided by arches into stiff sections.

The bedding was hardly able to cover it and seemed ready to slide off

any moment. His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the

rest of him, waved about helplessly as he looked.

What’s happened to me? he thought. It wasn’t a dream. His room, a

proper human room although a little too small, lay peacefully between

its four familiar walls. A collection of textile samples lay spread out

on the table—Samsa was a travelling salesman—and above it there hung a

picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated magazine and

housed in a nice, gilded frame. It showed a lady fitted out with a fur

hat and fur boa who sat upright, raising a heavy fur muff that covered

the whole of her lower arm towards the viewer.

Gregor then turned to look out the window at the dull weather. Drops of

rain could be heard hitting the pane, which made him feel quite sad.

"How about if I sleep a little bit longer and forget all this

nonsense", he thought, but that was something he was unable to do

because he was used to sleeping on his right, and in his present state

couldn’t get into that position. However hard he threw himself onto his

right, he always rolled back to where he was. He must have tried it a

hundred times, shut his eyes so that he wouldn’t have to look at the

floundering legs, and only stopped when he began to feel a mild, dull

pain there that he had never felt before.

Oh, God, he thought, "what a strenuous career it is that I’ve chosen!

Travelling day in and day out. Doing business like this takes much more

effort than doing your own business at home, and on top of that there’s

the curse of travelling, worries about making train connections, bad

and irregular food, contact with different people all the time so that

you can never get to know anyone or become friendly with them. It can

all go to Hell!" He felt a slight itch up on his belly; pushed himself

slowly up on his back towards the headboard so that he could lift his

head better; found where the itch was, and saw that it was covered with

lots of little white spots which he didn’t know what to make of; and

when he tried to feel the place with one of his legs he drew it quickly

back because as soon as he touched it he was overcome by a cold

shudder.

He slid back into his former position. Getting up early all the time,

he thought, "it makes you stupid. You’ve got to get enough sleep. Other

travelling salesmen live a life of luxury. For instance, whenever I go

back to the guest house during the morning to copy out the contract,

these gentlemen are always still sitting there eating their breakfasts.

I ought to just try that with my boss; I’d get kicked out on the spot.

But who knows, maybe that would be the best thing for me. If I didn’t

have my parents to think about I’d have given in my notice a long time

ago, I’d have gone up to the boss and told him just what I think, tell

him everything I would, let him know just what I feel. He’d fall right

off his desk! And it’s a funny sort of business to be sitting up there

at your desk, talking down at your subordinates from up there,

especially when you have to go right up close because the boss is hard

of hearing. Well, there’s still some hope; once I’ve got the money

together to pay off my parents’ debt to him—another five or six years I

suppose—that’s definitely what I’ll do. That’s when I’ll make the big

change. First of all though, I’ve got to get up, my train leaves at

five."

And he looked over at the alarm clock, ticking on the chest of drawers.

God in Heaven! he thought. It was half past six and the hands were

quietly moving forwards, it was even later than half past, more like

quarter to seven. Had the alarm clock not rung? He could see from the

bed that it had been set for four o’clock as it should have been; it

certainly must have rung. Yes, but was it possible to quietly sleep

through that furniture-rattling noise? True, he had not slept

peacefully, but probably all the more deeply because of that. What

should he do now? The next train went at seven; if he were to catch

that he would have to rush like mad and the collection of samples was

still not packed, and he did not at all feel particularly fresh and

lively. And even if he did catch the train he would not avoid his

boss’s anger as the office assistant would have been there to see the

five o’clock train go, he would have put in his report about Gregor’s

not being there a long time ago. The office assistant was the boss’s

man, spineless, and with no understanding. What about if he reported

sick? But that would be extremely strained and suspicious as in five

years of service Gregor had never once yet been ill. His boss would

certainly come round with the doctor from the medical insurance

company, accuse his parents of having a lazy son, and accept the

doctor’s recommendation not to make any claim as the doctor believed

that no-one was ever ill but that many were workshy. And what’s more,

would he have been entirely wrong in this case? Gregor did in fact,

apart from excessive sleepiness after sleeping for so long, feel

completely well and even felt much hungrier than usual.

He was still hurriedly thinking all this through, unable to decide to

get out of the bed, when the clock struck quarter to seven. There was a

cautious knock at the door near his head. Gregor, somebody called—it

was his mother—"it’s quarter to seven. Didn’t you want to go

somewhere?" That gentle voice! Gregor was shocked when he heard his own

voice answering, it could hardly be recognised as the voice he had had

before. As if from deep inside him, there was a painful and

uncontrollable squeaking mixed in with it, the words could be made out

at first but then there was a sort of echo which made them unclear,

leaving the hearer unsure whether he had heard properly or not. Gregor

had wanted to give a full answer and explain everything, but in the

circumstances contented himself with saying: "Yes, mother, yes,

thank-you, I’m getting up now." The change in Gregor’s voice probably

could not be noticed outside through the wooden door, as his mother was

satisfied with this explanation and shuffled away. But this short

conversation made the other members of the family aware that Gregor,

against their expectations was still at home, and soon his father came

knocking at one of the side doors, gently, but with his fist. "Gregor,

Gregor, he called, what’s wrong?" And after a short while he called

again with a warning deepness in his voice: Gregor! Gregor! At the

other side door his sister came plaintively: "Gregor? Aren’t you well?

Do you need anything? Gregor answered to both sides: I’m ready, now",

making an effort to remove all the strangeness from his voice by

enunciating very carefully and putting long pauses between each,

individual word. His father went back to his breakfast, but his sister

whispered: Gregor, open the door, I beg of you. Gregor, however, had

no thought of opening the door, and instead congratulated himself for

his cautious habit, acquired from his travelling, of locking all doors

at night even when he was at home.

The first thing he wanted to do was to get up in peace without being

disturbed, to get dressed, and most of all to have his breakfast. Only

then would he consider what to do next, as he was well aware that he

would not bring his thoughts to any sensible conclusions by lying in

bed. He remembered that he had often felt a slight pain in bed, perhaps

caused by lying awkwardly, but that had always turned out to be pure

imagination and he wondered how his imaginings would slowly resolve

themselves today. He did not have the slightest doubt that the change

in his voice was nothing more than the first sign of a serious cold,

which was an occupational hazard for travelling salesmen.

It was a simple matter to throw off the covers; he only had to blow

himself up a little and they fell off by themselves. But it became

difficult after that, especially as he was so exceptionally broad. He

would have used his arms and his hands to push himself up; but instead

of them he only had all those little legs continuously moving in

different directions, and which he was moreover unable to control. If

he wanted to bend one of them, then that was the first one that would

stretch itself out; and if he finally managed to do what he wanted with

that leg, all the others seemed to be set free and would move about

painfully. This is something that can’t be done in bed, Gregor said

to himself, so don’t keep trying to do it.

The first thing he wanted to do was get the lower part of his body out

of the bed, but he had never seen this lower part, and could not

imagine what it looked like; it turned out to be too hard to move; it

went so slowly; and finally, almost in a frenzy, when he carelessly

shoved himself forwards with all the force he could gather, he chose

the wrong direction, hit hard against the lower bedpost, and learned

from the burning pain he felt that the lower part of his body might

well, at present, be the most sensitive.

So then he tried to get the top part of his body out of the bed first,

carefully turning his head to the side. This he managed quite easily,

and despite its breadth and its weight, the bulk of his body eventually

followed slowly in the direction of the head. But when he had at last

got his head out of the bed and into the fresh air it occurred to him

that if he let himself fall it would be a miracle if his head were not

injured, so he became afraid to carry on pushing himself forward the

same way. And he could not knock himself out now at any price; better

to stay in bed than lose consciousness.

It took just as much effort to get back to where he had been earlier,

but when he lay there sighing, and was once more watching his legs as

they struggled against each other even harder than before, if that was

possible, he could think of no way of bringing peace and order to this

chaos. He told himself once more that it was not possible for him to

stay in bed and that the most sensible thing to do would be to get free

of it in whatever way he could at whatever sacrifice. At the same time,

though, he did not forget to remind himself that calm consideration was

much better than rushing to desperate conclusions. At times like this

he would direct his eyes to the window and look out as clearly as he

could, but unfortunately, even the other side of the narrow street was

enveloped in morning fog and the view had little confidence or cheer to

offer him. Seven o’clock, already, he said to himself when the clock

struck again, seven o’clock, and there’s still a fog like this. And

he lay there quietly a while longer, breathing lightly as if he perhaps

expected the total stillness to bring things back to their real and

natural state.

But then he said to himself: "Before it strikes quarter past seven I’ll

definitely have to have got properly out of bed. And by then somebody

will have come round from work to ask what’s happened to me as well, as

they open up at work before seven o’clock." And so he set himself to

the task of swinging the entire length of his body out of the bed all

at the same time. If he succeeded in falling out of bed in this way and

kept his head raised as he did so he could probably avoid injuring it.

His back seemed to be quite hard, and probably nothing would happen to

it falling onto the carpet. His main concern was for the loud noise he

was bound to make, and which even through all the doors would probably

raise